<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:02:15.693-07:00</updated><category term='hand'/><category term='pain'/><title type='text'>Broke Hand Blog</title><subtitle type='html'>one man's log of his experiences with a broke hand</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-2945730644068355514</id><published>2008-11-27T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T21:26:02.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>day 132</title><content type='html'>132 days after breaking my right hand, it's already caught up to the left and even passed it by.  Mostly normal, except the 4th metacarpal healed at an upward facing angle (like a tent, but a really short and wide tent (like a two inch tall tent), so there is a large bump on that part of my hand.  Also the forth and fifth knuckle are a lot lower than the rest.  I'm right handed again, but still using the left hand a little more than before, with more confidence than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, the break might as well as never happened.  People have been breaking bones now for tens of thousands of years, and healing just fine.  Most of the time we don't give no bones about it.  Sure, once and a while someone might shatter a pelvis or crush a hand, but for the most part breaking bones is no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a blog reader, you have a 1/9th chance of breaking a bone in the next years, so be ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, in wrapping up the short but brilliant life of this blog, I quote the zombie kid on youtube: "I like turtles."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-2945730644068355514?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/2945730644068355514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=2945730644068355514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2945730644068355514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2945730644068355514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/11/day-132.html' title='day 132'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-2883413363251912521</id><published>2008-07-24T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T14:12:12.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 27</title><content type='html'>----&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to this blog, which receives no comments out here in the darkest, coldest, loneliest reaches of cyberspace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hand has improved.  It does not hurt anymore, I'm out of the sling. and I can even use my thumb and forefinger on that hand.  I got a new job at a restaurant, where I even waited tables last night.  Basically figured out how to do every task there with limited hand use.  The customers, as you might expect, have no end of stupid and even rude shit to say or ask about my arm.  But most just ignore it.  A table of college girls demanded to know how I broke my hand, so I simply said that I broke it in Mexico.  Seems pretty adventurous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One asshole asked why my cast was so ragged and messed up.  If I had not been on the job I would have said something like, "None of your business, jackass."  I simply did not reply.  Then he explains, "I'm a hand doctor - that's why I ask."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The challenging part of waiting tables with one good hand is writing the orders down left-handed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I'm officially ambidextrous (both hands dominant).  It is such an empowering feeling to perform some intricate task with the left hand.  Try it - it's done wonders for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-2883413363251912521?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/2883413363251912521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=2883413363251912521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2883413363251912521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2883413363251912521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-27.html' title='Day 27'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-1859101240412903254</id><published>2008-07-12T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T14:19:12.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 14</title><content type='html'>------&lt;br /&gt;Quit my waiter job yesterday.  They didn't want to try me out one-handed, and I lost my cool with the assistant manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at the art reception party I would say, "I'm unemployed," when people asked what I did for a living.  The results were hilarious - the effect was the same as telling someone you have AIDS.  Cocktail party bullshit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-1859101240412903254?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1859101240412903254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=1859101240412903254' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/1859101240412903254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/1859101240412903254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-14.html' title='Day 14'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-3765533638070100697</id><published>2008-07-09T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T00:12:05.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 11</title><content type='html'>---&lt;br /&gt;already i am proficient with my left hand.  when the cast comes off in two months my left hand will be the chief of hands.  the commanding hand.  on it's own doing jobs meant for two hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the left (uninjured) hand is sore in the mornings from all that work.  double work load.  the soreness is a sign of new muscle growth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-3765533638070100697?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/3765533638070100697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=3765533638070100697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/3765533638070100697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/3765533638070100697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-11.html' title='Day 11'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-8748101137887182199</id><published>2008-07-04T00:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T00:57:02.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 7</title><content type='html'>---&lt;br /&gt;Sang karaoke tonight with my broke hand.  Good times.  Some of the ladies asked me about the hand, but none of the ones I was actually intrigued by made any notice of my condition.  Women, man.  It's like herding cats.   And while some of them at the grocery store might chat about my hand, the smart ones aren't going to fall for the broken hand trick.  Who needs women anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the designated driver even with one good hand.  Also, I just cooked another omelette.  Having one hand forces me to flip the omelette by flicking the skillet.  In the past I was too comfortable (with the luxury of two hands) to learn to flip eggs on a skillet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-8748101137887182199?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/8748101137887182199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=8748101137887182199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/8748101137887182199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/8748101137887182199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-6_04.html' title='Day 7'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-364407256804738288</id><published>2008-07-02T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T12:39:48.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6</title><content type='html'>----&lt;br /&gt;AM spent at hand specialist.  great success.  against the odds, he was able to "reduce" (ie. put back together) my fractured metacarpal.  the fourth metacarpal is the long bone in your hand behind your ring finger.  mine was broke in two, the broken ends jutting up at 45 degree angles.  it looked like the bones in my hand were "pitching a tent."  the doc got the bone ends to join each other in a straight line like they used to.  so they gave me a local anesthetic and hung my arm by the tip of my ring finger to stretch the bones apart.  after 20 minutes of this, the tech put my bone back together through clamping my palm.  this was painful, more painful than the incident itself.  if the bone does not slip apart in 10 days, then it will heal without surgery.  if it pops apart, then i get a permanent steel plate in my hand.  this would probably disqualify me from competition in ultimate fighting, which is a great setback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;man i love going to all these clinics with my arm in a sling.  when i went to st. david's to get my x-rays, all the women working there were pretty enough to work as TV hospital staff.  i love them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-364407256804738288?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/364407256804738288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=364407256804738288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/364407256804738288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/364407256804738288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-6.html' title='Day 6'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-2558196803448264438</id><published>2008-07-01T12:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T13:03:34.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5</title><content type='html'>----&lt;br /&gt;woke up on couch downstairs in late morning.  went out walking for a couple of hours.  bought a cool shirt about texas pride with skeletons on it, and a badass ring for 5 bucks.  the ring probably weighs several pounds, or at least it feels like it.  picked up some mexican pastries for breakfast, about to fry eggs for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the reality of staying home during the work week is sinking in.  all my friends are busy working right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-2558196803448264438?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/2558196803448264438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=2558196803448264438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2558196803448264438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/2558196803448264438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-5.html' title='Day 5'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-4284705184695236788</id><published>2008-06-30T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T22:55:04.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4</title><content type='html'>---&lt;br /&gt;appt. with surgeon wednesday AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people pretty much treat you like shit even if you're an obvious cripple.  same shitty service, same shitty cuts at the grocery store, same shitty customers making your job harder with their stupidity.  starting to lose my calm, maybe from little physical activity.  so i will go walking now.&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;went on long walk in neighborhood.  had friend over to watch movie.  she is nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-4284705184695236788?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/4284705184695236788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=4284705184695236788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/4284705184695236788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/4284705184695236788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-4.html' title='Day 4'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-5238484049809913218</id><published>2008-06-29T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T16:48:46.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3</title><content type='html'>Day 3&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;mike quit his new job and came back to the restaurant to work my server shifts for the next few weeks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;just lounging around the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;my first lazy sunday in years, possibly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;i used to love sundays, and now i get to have one.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;friend came over this morning and we attempted the crossword as i made omlettes – with my left hand.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;my cell-phone fell into a creek yesterday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;difficult to disassemble with just one hand.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;have a ways to go before it will be dry.&lt;/p&gt;  in the afternoon my cousin and i went to the pool at our complex and met some of the neighbors there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mother is trying to use her connections to find a hand surgeon who will see me.  most people would have to wait to the extent of risking permanent damage.  a surgeon will need to go in and pin my bones back together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the drunks at the local cornerstore wanted to sign my cast (actually a splint), but instead we all decided to wait until my permanent cast is on.  one of them said that when i came back tomorrow all i would see on that streetcorner is just a big stain on the pavement, i guess from their melted bodies (100 + degree day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow i intend to go visit the place where this all started, and i will collect my illegally confiscated property.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-5238484049809913218?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5238484049809913218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=5238484049809913218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/5238484049809913218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/5238484049809913218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-3.html' title='Day 3'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-5999567659834386165</id><published>2008-06-29T01:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T01:24:15.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2</title><content type='html'>Day 2 was a good day.  Had to cancel lunch with Fred.  Walked to cornerstore to cash check and grocery store to buy supplies.  Spent afternoon at home with cousin and her friend.  Mike took me into work where my car was waiting.  Hosted outdoor patio and had fun with it.  No stress as a host, not like being a waiter.  Bussed some tables and refilled waters all with left hand.  Most guests treated me as a normal servant, not bothering to nudge their glasses forward.  A few tables wanted to discuss my arm in a sling.  Tons of strange girls have expressed their deepest sympathies for my broken hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After work I went to Mike's place with Jay and his brother Kerry and sat around.  Came home and am now with cousin and friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did the following with my left hand only:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drive, shave, shower, brush teeth, tie shoes, write drink orders, sign my name, type, and other more personal things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-5999567659834386165?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5999567659834386165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=5999567659834386165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/5999567659834386165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/5999567659834386165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-2.html' title='Day 2'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8056901844463338792.post-6113416359170876024</id><published>2008-06-28T01:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T02:00:56.029-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hand'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>Day 1</title><content type='html'>-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;4 pm and my hand broke while at jay’s house before my night job as a waiter.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;right (dominant hand).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;one metacarpal dislocated the adjacent one shattered in middle, pinky hand side.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;i have been a carpenter by day. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;story of incident later once i gain a little more energy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;back after 6 hours ER.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;percaset wearing off, lost prescription, could be a long night.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;-&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;still up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;tomorrow i call freddie jones and let him know i have no car now so to meet for lunch i must host.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;i hope and plan to have some modest painkillers by then.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;at 6 i will go to work at the restaurant . . . as a host!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;should be fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;can do with right arm in cast and sling, as long as the throbbing is bearable.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;all in all a very positive ER experience.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;they put me under but i saw and remembered it all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the three strong people couldn’t place my bone back, so my dad rolls his sleeves up, grabbed my hand, and jammed the bone back in with a loud pop.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;it felt good although weird, and the many people present cheered.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;what a moment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;for a little while my hand felt better, until the pain of the other fracture sunk in.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;the nurses and doctors were friendly people, and i shared a cigarette with a cancer patient outside as i waited for jay to come with my car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;suddenly i hear my engine from a long ways off, and i know i’m headed home.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;prepared small meal in kitchen with one hand, and typed this entry with my left hand as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;i ground pepper, operated a stove, and opened ziplock baggies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;believe it or not putting on pants is usually a job for two hands, as i am surprised to report.&lt;/p&gt;expect updates throughout the next week or so, i'll have plenty of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8056901844463338792-6113416359170876024?l=bluevulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/feeds/6113416359170876024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8056901844463338792&amp;postID=6113416359170876024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/6113416359170876024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8056901844463338792/posts/default/6113416359170876024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluevulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-1.html' title='Day 1'/><author><name>Mr. Turkey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01546190836919098687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
